3/30/2022

Sitting poolside at 2pm on Wednesday. The wind has picked up and the morning clouds have given way to a hot sun over us. I take cover under the sheltered shadow of our umbrella while Darlene bakes in the sunshine, tempting a late March tan. 

The pool is busy, resort goers flit about the bar like flies hoping to snatch a taste of paradise. It’s been a calm week so far, and the weather promises to continue bright and sunny until we depart on Saturday. I consider returning to my book, The Fellowship of the Ring, which I have devoured over the past few days. With luck I will finish it by the time we land in Boston.

Darlene puts her shirt over her eyes as the sun drifts behind a cloud. The soft whir of the electric shuttle bus hums by, muted by the music of the poolside bar. It’s almost lunchtime.

3/31/2022

On the cafe patio at 5:30. The cool breeze is a welcome relief on my face as the day continues to slip away. Darlene sips her Dominican Espresso while I scoop my strawberry ice cream greedily. The burn on my legs is now safely concealed by long pants.

As is so often the case, the conversation drifts toward Ruggles, that dwarf star of talking points. Dad texted me this morning about running low on kibble, disguised as a letter from the Rugboat himself. “Provisions running low. No luck hunting birds and squirrels. Need to find a trading post to resupply.” 

Darlene cuts in to show me a picture of Rugs at home buried in couch pillows and I smile in acknowledgment. By now the sun is sliding toward the horizon and the clouds that have made camp there. With an effort it breaks through, and reminds the patio goers of its eternal dominion in the sky. Next for a drink. I almost feel at home here.

4/1/2022

Walking back from the lobby at 5:45. The day has been hot and the sun is still relentless in its rays. My arms and legs certainly feel it. They have fresh burns from a morning spent on the water, temporary pains that remind me of the pleasure I endured to warrant them.

It was a gorgeous morning; entirely sunny and warm. We got a ride to a small beach town not far from the resort and met with another group before boarding our catamaran in the shallows. The next several hours were spent snorkeling, swimming, drinking, and dancing to Dominican music.

But the winding path to our room takes my mind away from sun and waves, at least for a time. Still reading Lord of the Rings as I am, the marshes and hollows that surround us make my mind go to Frodo and Sam, pushed into the Old Forest by duty and need. These days really are enchanted.

Arriving at the room is a welcome relief and even more so because it was recently cleaned. The amount of debris that accumulates in a week on vacation is truly astounding. But now I have the chance to cool my legs and arms before dinner. One more night in paradise.

4/1/2022

The beach rooftop bar at 9pm. Darlene and I trade meaningful looks and short conversations. Her green striped pants and tank top are a foil to my button down shirt and loafers. 

The waves beat a constant chorus on the shore just 50 yards away. For more time than I would like to admit I watch the man gathering trash out of bins on the beach. Does he live here? A man on the patio below us smokes a cigarette alone.

So this is what makes a night in Punta Cana.  A few drinks, a playful conversation, a gust of wind across the beach. The calm that rolls over a swimmer as they slide beneath the surface. Peace. It was a peaceful week that now draws to a close. Playful, at times exciting, but entirely peaceful. Until next time.